I Can Watch You Dance
by gemma3
Summary: My first Rentfic. M/R slash. CHAPTER 7 UP [7.31.02] Roger comes back after being gone for 2 years -- his and mark's relationship develops. Reviews would be great!
1. it still goes on without you here

Author's note: The characters are Jonathan's.  The lyrics are Matt Caplan's, and the title is from his song "Greenbay".  The story is mine.  Reviews would be great.  This is my first RENTfic, and my first go at m/r slash.  Hope you like it.

Mark's POV

I looked at the clock, and jumped with a start.  It was already 9:45 and I still hadn't bought batteries for my radio.  If I wanted to hear Roger's voice again, I would have to do just that, and so I ran out to the deli in the cold.  My sweater was too thin to keep the wind out and because I was in such a rush, I had forgotten to put my jacket on.  But it was all right, because I made it home just before 10, which was when Roger was coming on the air.  I turned the radio on – the tuner was already set to the local rock station, and a commercial was on, telling me that in just moments, Roger Davis would be live on the air, performing his new song Greenbay, as well as a few other songs, and that I should stay tuned.

            I'm feeling good tonight.  It's been so long since I've heard Roger's voice.  It was weird at first, not seeing him all the time.  Right after he left, I didn't know what to do with myself.  I would spend days just reliving the day he left – his quick hug goodbye, and then him jumping into his car and driving off, god knows where.  I cried and cried…I wouldn't leave the house.  Collins and his new boyfriend came over, so did Maureen and Joanne.  They all tried to cheer me up, but I think they already knew that I loved him.  In a more-than-friendly way.  So, eventually they stopped trying to cheer me up, and I cheered myself up.  I'm ok now.  I've even had a few girlfriends and boyfriends.  It was good for me to start seeing people.  It's been a good 2 years since Roger anyway.  And Roger's doing good.  He's making music – beautiful music.  And I'm still here, but I'm ok.

            My attention was suddenly called back to the radio – Roger was on.  He sounded good.  The interview was short.  Roger told the DJ that he would be in New York for a while, working on a new album, and told him about his days living in the East Village.  I almost expected him to mention me, and he did.  He talked about how his friends were his family back then, and about how I took care of him, but never actually mentioned my name.  It made me feel good that he remembered me.  He said that his T-cells were high, and his viral load low.  It was good to know he was doing well.  Then he started playing his song, and when he came to my favorite part, I started to cry despite myself.  It just sounded like the story of my life with him.

"And that's alright if there is no romance, 'cos I can watch you dance.  Yea from the corner, I can watch you dance.  And I know we're getting older but I can watch you dance…"

I started remembering all the times when he would take me to clubs with him, dragging me out to mingle with more people, telling me that I would rot if I stayed home.  (This was in the pre-April, pre-HIV+ days.)  And I would just sit at the bar, and he'd always find a way to get on the platform in the middle of the club, and he'd just dance.  He would tear his shirt off, the sweat on his body gleaming, and he would dance.  He looked so beautiful, young and healthy.

            I turned the radio off.  Roger wasn't done singing yet, but I can't listen to anymore of it.  I need to get a hold of myself.  I haven't cried like this since just after he left.  "Well, fuck that," I muttered.  "I can cry all I want."  And I curled up in a ball on the couch, the couch where me and Roger had sat together, laughing, so many times, and cried for him.

Roger's POV

It feels weird to be back in the city again, after all these months.  I've been avoiding New York, trying my best to stay away from all the memories it harbors.  But now, here I am on 14th and 8th, trying my best to figure out how the fuck I came to be back here, so close to home.

            I've been walking around for the past hour, trying to find a place to sit down and have a coffee – a place that wasn't a Starbucks.  God, when I first moved to the city, there wasn't a single Starbucks here.  At least, not one that I knew of.  Now, it's hard to find a block without one on it.  I know one place I can go – Life.  But…I'm not sure I'm ready to be so close to the loft, to drink my coffee in a restaurant where I spent a good 5 years of my life.

            I walked into Starbucks and ordered a small Kenyan blend.  Picking up a copy of the Voice, I sat down and nursed my beverage.  The hot coffee burned my lips, but it was a nice change from the cold November air.  I flipped back to the concert section, and, to my surprise, saw an advert for my own show, which was that night at Irving Plaza.  It's weird to see my name in print, right under the band's name, and even weirder knowing that anyone in New York could see it too.  "God…what if someone I once knew comes to this?" I thought, and then, "What if no one comes?"  But I know I have nothing to worry about.  The show's been sold out for a couple of days now.  The guys in the band couldn't believe it.  I guess all we needed to get our big break was to leave the city for a while.  Now everyone here seems to love us.

            The door of the coffee shop opened, and a beautiful blond walked in, a small, brown-haired man following.  I went back to my coffee, thinking nothing of it at first, but then I looked up again and saw that it was Maureen and Mark.  God.  "I know it's inevitable that I see my friends, but … it's so soon."  My eyes darted frantically from them to the door – they are at the counter, and there is no way to make a quick exit without them seeing me.  "Well…here goes."

            Mark saw me first.  Maureen was saying something to him, and he was glancing around, obviously bored.  His eyes met mine, and locked in on them for several seconds.  He then quickly turned away, disbelieving, and tapped Maureen on the arm, "Look."

            "Oh. My. God.  Roger Davis!  Where have you been?" she squealed, as she ran over, knocking into the other people in the restaurant.  "I mean, obviously you've been making music and probably fucking every hot girl you've met, knowing you"—she winked—"but where have you been?  And," she pouted, "Why haven't you called?"

            "I…" my voice trailed off.  I was overwhelmed.  Maureen had always been overwhelming.  I looked over at Mark.  He had tears in his eyes, it seemed, but he was smiling, if a little timidly.  I walked over to him and hugged him, hoping that I wasn't imposing on him after being away from him all these years.  The tears that had been welling up in his eyes spilled down his cheeks as he hugged me back.  "I missed you," I whispered.

            "Yeah," he sighed.  "Me too."


	2. you catch me unaware

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys!  I wrote that first chapter a long time ago and now it makes me wanna write again.  So…here's some more.  I think it's a little choppy, but anyway.  *The characters are still Jonathan's.  The chapter titles are from Matt's songs.

Mark's POV

            As Maureen and I walked into Starbucks, I couldn't help but smile.  She found me this morning, curled up on the couch with the radio by my side, and knew that I had listened to Roger last night.  It was surprisingly perceptive for Maureen – she usually thinks only about herself.  She dragged me with her for a walk, and to get some coffee.  I was reluctant, but I'm glad I came.  This morning reminds me of when me and her used to date – before she started cheating on me.  She really is a great girl.

            But, god, she never shuts up.  I don't even know what she's talking about anymore.  My mind's been wandering for the past half hour and she still hasn't noticed.

We order our drinks, and go to wait by the counter.  I look around the coffee shop.  There are so many people here; they all have interesting stories to tell.  I wish I had remembered to take my camera before I left.  I'm still looking around, and Maureen still hasn't noticed, when, "Shit."  I grab Maureen's arm and point at the far corner of the room, where a blond-haired man is sitting, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Voice.  "Look."

"Fuck me," she whispers.  She immediately runs over to him, knocking into a minimum of three people.  "Oh my god!  Roger!!!"  She's squealing now, and everyone is watching us.  "What are you doing here?  And where have you been?"  She goes off on a tangent, something about all the girls he's fucked and the places he's been.  He looks absolutely bewildered.  I probably do too.

He doesn't know what to say to Maureen.  Brushing her off, he gets up and comes over to me, enveloping me in a big hug.  I'm surprised and I stiffen – Roger was never one to hug people.  Tears begin to spill down my cheeks.  "I missed you," he whispers into my hair.

I sigh, unbelieving that this is actually happening.  "Yeah.  Me too."  He keeps hugging me for… I don't know how long.  It might've been seconds, it might've been minutes, but it feels like an eternity.  Maureen finally shut up – she sat down in Roger's chair and left us to our moment.  Finally, he breaks away.

I look into his eyes.  They're still the same shade of blue, like ice.  They're smiling now, happy eyes.  His eyes used to be full of pain – his disease, her disease, the prospect of losing her.  He's accepted her death, I can see that clearly.  'Well, it's been long enough,' I think bitterly.  I turn away from him.

"Mark?  Hey, Mark."  I turn back to face him.  "Why're you…I mean, what's going on?"  I don't know how to respond.  I want to be angry with him, ask him why he left, why he forgot to call, whether he even cared about me.  But I can't.  It's impossible to be angry at Roger Davis.  He has that quality about him.

I shrug.  "I dunno.  What're you doing here?"

"The band's here.  We're working on a new CD.  They all wanted to come back to the city for a while.  You know, catch up on old times."  He smiled a little, and looked down at his hands.  "Have you heard any of our stuff?"  He pauses and looks up.  I nod my reply.  "That's great!  I mean, I'm happy you heard it.  I wanted you to."

What the fuck am I supposed to say to him?  'Yea, Roge.  I heard your stuff and now everything can be back to normal 'cos you decided to come back, and I'm Mark.  I forgive everybody.'  Fuck him.  "Oh," I say, a little too coldly.  He looks hurt and I try to soften my tone.  "It's good.  You've always been talented."  I can tell he doesn't really believe me.  After all these years, he still doesn't know that I would never lie to him.  "Really Roge," I whisper.  "It's great."

"Thanks," he says.  "I mean that."  He looks at the table where Maureen is sitting, watching us intently and drinking his coffee.  "You wanna sit?"

I shrug, and we sit.  I can't help but wonder where this is going to go now.

Roger's POV

            I never wanna let him go.  It's weird – I never used to hug him before, when I got to see him all the time.  I wish I had.  It's been a while since I've realized my feelings for Mark are more than platonic.  I had a lot of time to think.  I realized he's what kept me sane all those years.  Especially during my druggie/April period.  I wish I could tell him these things.  But, I can't.  He's silently crying into my sweater, and all I wanna do is comfort him and tell him that it'll all be ok.  But, I don't, and I let go.

            He looks up at my face, but turns away quickly, not wanting to look any more.  "Mark…hey, Mark.  Why're you…" I was going to ask him why he's crying, why he's turning away from me, but I think twice.  "I mean, what's going on?"

            He doesn't respond right away.  There's so much pain in his eyes – it seems as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  I want to hold him and reassure him that I'll never leave again, but instead I just smile, waiting for an answer.

            "I dunno," he says.  "Why're you here?"

            It sounds almost accusatory.  Like, 'Why the fuck did you come back, things were ok without you.'  I hate how awkward things are with me and him.  "The band's here," I say.  "We're working on our new album.  They wanted to come back to the city…catch up on old times.  You know."  I search his face for a sign of approval, but I don't find one.  I look down at my hands.  "Have you heard any of our stuff?"  He nods and smiles – I'm relieved to see him smiling.  "That's great!"  Over-enthusiastic much, Roger?  "I mean…I'm happy you heard it," I mumble.  Then, hopefully, "I wanted you to."

            "Oh," he snapped.  I can't believe a single word can hurt so much.  "It's good," he says, a little softer, more reassuring.  "You've always been talented."  Then, as an afterthought, "Really Roge."  His old nickname for me.  No one ever called me Roge but him.  "It's great."

            "Thanks," I say.  "I mean that."  A silence threatens to overcome us, when I quickly say, "Let's sit."  And we sit, and still I have nothing to say.  I start fiddling with my paper, looking everywhere but at Mark.  I know he's angry with me and I don't know how to deal with it.

            "Hey," I start.  Well, one of us had to begin the conversation.  "I have a gig tonight.  At Irving.  Do you wanna come?"  I'm still staring down at the newspaper.  "It'll be like old times.  Remember when you used to come to my gigs and sit at the bar and film me?"  I don't know whether I should keep going with this.  I look up at Mark's face, searching for some kind of sign.  His face remains neutral, and his eyes are diverted from mine.  I decide to risk it, and keep going.  "All the guys will be there too.  You can hang out backstage."  Still no response.  "Mark?"  He looks up.  "Please come," I say softly.

            He nods.  "Ok.  Should I…" he hesitates.  I give him an encouraging look.  "Should I meet you somewhere before?"

            I wasn't expecting him to ask this, but I am happy that he did.  It's my turn to hesitate.  "Do you think I could, maybe, stop by the loft?  Not to impose, I mean, if you don't want me there, we can meet at Life or something.  But, I just…I wanna see it again."  I hope he's not mad at the question.

            "Sure," he smiles.  "Come by whenever you want.  I'll be home."  He glances over at Maureen.  "Let's go?"  She nods.  "I'll see ya Roge."  And he gets up, and walks out the door, leaving me alone with my paper and coffee once again.


	3. each new road leads straight to home

Author's note: Thanks for all the positive feedback guys!  I hope you're liking where this is going… I think I know what I wanna do with it, but I have yet to write it.  However, soon school is over and I can write better, longer chapters.

Disclaimer:  They're still not mine – all Jonathan's.  Titles are from Matt songs.  Any lyrics that might end up in this are Matt's too.

Mark's POV

            I'm sitting on the floor looking around Roger's room.  It hasn't changed much in the two years he's been gone.  People came and went – some even stayed around for a while.  It never felt right for me to live alone, so I made sure there was always someone here.  They made the loft their home, bringing their stories and knick-knacks with them.  But the door to Roger's room was never opened.  When asked what the door was to, I always said it was a closet full of junk.  No one ever looked for himself, taking my word for truth.

I haven't been in here since a few days after he left.  It's weird – everything is exactly the same.  The bed is still unmade.  A few of his old shirts are on the floor.  I walk over to the desk and find that it is strewn with old notes and receipts.  I'm smiling now.  Roger was always so messy.  I begin to unconsciously sift through the old papers.  There's an unfinished lyric written on a piece of paper on the desk.  It's beautiful, a love song, undoubtedly for Mimi.

"Everything I've ever done I've done because I love you…silly you should ask.  I'm afraid that I'll spend the better part of next year scared that I might need you – bring me down and I'll feel again.  You left your mark – you left your face in the corner of my mind.  You left your mark and you left yourself."

I don't recognize them – it's not a song that's on his CD.  There are some doodles in the margins – a bunch of hearts and squiggles, and a pair of eyes.  He must've written this before Mimi got really sick for the second time.  When she was healthy, he was so happy.  He had learned what loss was that night he sang "Your Eyes" to her, the night she almost died.  After that, he really did "live every day as if it were his last".  He even started going to Life Support meetings.  Then, she died, and he gave up hope.  He left New York soon after the funeral – his band soon followed.  This is the first time he's been back here – at least to my knowledge.

            "Wow," I whisper.  "Roger's really back."  And, I'm not sure why, but I start to cry.  I don't even notice at first, but when I bring my hand up to touch my face, I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks.  I'm sobbing now.  I can't help it.  I sit in his room for a long time, rocking back and forth and crying.

Then, "Fuck.  It's 5:30."  I'm surprised at how shitty I sound.  My voice is hoarse from the crying.  I go into the bathroom and wash my face, and examine myself in the mirror.  My hair is matted with sweat and there are bags under my eyes.  I look at my watch.  5:45.  I have time for a quick shower.  I turn on the water and while waiting for it to get warm, I get a towel and slip out of my clothes.  Finally, the water becomes tepid – it rarely gets warmer than that in the winter.  I stand in the shower and let the water wash everything away – all the fear, worry, hurt.  The questions: 'Where the fuck were you Roger?  Why didn't you call _me_?  You called everyone _but_ me, you know.  Did you forget?"  None of this matters now.  I feel cleansed.  Soon, the water gets icy, and I get out, drying off and getting dressed.  Taking one final look in the mirror, I leave the bathroom.

"Hey."

The voice, although familiar, makes me jump.  Roger is sitting on the couch, smiling at me.  "How'd you get in?"

He shrugs.  "My key still works.  I guess you never changed the locks after I left."  He pauses.  "You took a long shower.  I've been sitting here for a while."

"Yea.  Well…I…need to be clean."  God, I'm sounding stupid even to myself.  He must think I'm a fucking moron.

He laughs.  "We wouldn't want you to smell Pookie," he teases, imitating Maureen's voice.

"Hey!  Fuck you!"  I pick up a pillow and throw it in his direction.  He dodges it easily, laughing all the while, and then picks it up and throws it at me.  I can't help but join in his laughter too.  It's nice to have Roger around again.  I knew he'd come back.

We both calm down after a while, and sit quietly.  He looks around the loft, taking it all in, and then turns back to me, and gives me his signature Roger grin.  "Welcome home Roge," I whisper.  "Welcome home."

Roger's POV

            "Welcome home," he whispers, smiling at me.  It's weird, being here again.  I haven't had a real home for two years – I slept in various cheap hotels with my band, whatever we could afford.  Now, sitting on the worn couch, I feel complete again.  I know everything about this loft – every nook and cigarette burn.  I love it here.  A guy's never complete without a place to live.

            "Thanks," I say softly.  I get up and walk over the place where he is standing, and give him a hug.  He hugs me back for a while, but then pulls away, and smiles at me.

            "All this hugging isn't like you Roge."  He lightly punches my arm and gives me a big, lopsided grin.  I've missed seeing him smile.  I've missed _making_ him smile.

            I laugh.  "Yeah, I guess not."  He never stops grinning at me.  There's so much love in his eyes.  I can't believe that after I left him so abruptly, he can still find it in his heart to love me.  "So.  You wanna give me the grand tour?"

            Mark shrugs and blushes.  "I haven't done much to the place.  It's all still pretty much the same."

            "I wanna see it all the same."

He pauses.  "Ok.  Lemme get my camera."

"Filming me already Marky?"  He blushes again.  He looks adorable when he blushes, like a little boy.  "It's alright.  I know I'm sexy…" His blush deepens, and he turns away from me.

"Follow me."

I follow him around the loft, and he narrates, probably more for his camera than for me.  He wasn't kidding when he said he hadn't done much to the place.  There's no new furniture.  The sheets on his bed are still the same – white with blue stripes.  The shampoo in the bathroom is the same -- Neutrogena.  The food in the cupboard is the same – Captain crunch and Cup Noodles.  Mark hasn't changed a bit.

He takes me into my room last.  It's exactly the same as I left it – a mess of clothing and papers littered all over the place.  It seems as if he hasn't been in here at all.  'That's so like him,' I think.  'Coping by hiding from things, avoiding them.'  I mentally kick myself for thinking such harsh thoughts – I'm the one who left him.

"Roger?" he says softly.  "What're you thinking about?"

"I…yea.  It's just weird to be back here.  I mean, it's all the same."  I walk over to my desk.  There are some lyrics on top – words to a song I never finished.  I read them over, thinking about how much I can still relate to them.  I must've stopped writing the song after Mimi died.  It couldn't have been for anyone but her – she was my one love then.  I slowly fold the paper up and put it in my pocket.  I want to finish writing this song.

I walk out of my room, fingering the paper in my pocket once in a while, and he follows, filming all the while.  I know he is going to watch this later and scrutinize my every move.  That's just the way Mark is.  "Roger?"

"Mark."

"It's 6:30.  Should we get something to eat before your gig?"

It got late fast.  "Yea.  Life?"

He smiles.  "Where else?"

We both get our coats, and we're out the door.


	4. show the world your song

Author's note: Hurrah for me, I'm finally updating!  Too much schoolwork lately to write, but today we had shortened classes so I'm home super early.  As always, please review – I wanna know what you think!  Annnd… I promise it finally gets slashy in the next chapter.  And, I'm gonna start the next chapter today!  Hurrah!

Disclaimer:  They're _still_ not mine.  As much as I want them, I can't have them.  Nope.  The boys are Jonathan's all the way.  Chapter titles are from Matt songs and so are the lyrics (I took some liberties with the lyrics to Sideways – that is, I changed them to better fit the moment in which Roger is writing/singing the song).

Roger's POV

            It's 7:30 and we're walking down Avenue A.  The cold air is stinging my face, but I don't care.  Dinner was amazing – The Life Café is exactly as I remembered it.  Nothing's changed.  Even the waiters are still the same.  During dinner, I went to the bathroom and finished that song I found on my desk.  I wanna sing it tonight I think, at the gig.  Maybe I'll sing it for Mark.  I always used to sing him a song when he came to watch me play.

            Nothing's changed with me and Mark.  We're still best friends.  It's almost as if I haven't left at all.  I look over at him and smile.  He's got a big grin on his face, and he's gesturing wildly with one hand about some new movie he's making.  As always, he's got his camera in the other hand – he's gonna film my gig tonight.

            We walk up 14th and turn onto Irving Place.  I see Darius unloading his drums from the van.  He waves me over, and I jog up to him, pulling Mark along with me.

            "Dude.  Where've you been?  We were gonna have dinner, remember?  To celebrate our first big New York gig…" Darius looks pissed.

            "Yea, I know I'm sorry.  I got caught up with something and I lost track of time."  I give him my best 'I'm your guitarist and singer and you really wanna forgive me so just do' smile.  "Did a lot of people go?"

"Everyone went – all CBGB's and Pyramid Club people were there.  That chick you used to date…Sandy?  She was there too."  He looks around for a second and notices Mark for the first time – apparently he's been standing off to the side filming this.  "Mark Cohen?"  Mark nods.  "Fuck!  It's good to see you…" He gives me a sideways glance and a wink.  "So that's why you were late."

            "Yea, I met up with Mark this morning.  We had dinner together."  Darius gives me a questioning look – everyone in the band knows I'm in love with Mark, and they all suspect that he's in love with me too.  I shake my head at him slightly, hoping Mark won't notice, to tell him that nothing happened.  As if anything ever would…Mark's not interested in me in _that_ way.  "I saw Maureen today too."

            "Shit.  How is the drama queen?"  I shrug and grin.  "You should've invited her to the show."

            "Yea.  She could've kept Markie company."  I turn around to find out where the voice came from, and see Dylan, his bass slung over his shoulder.  "We gotta do a sound check and stuff before we start.  You guys ready to go on in?"  He glances at me.  "Jared has your guitar, yes?"  I nod.  He smiles, and adds, as an afterthought, "Hey Mark.  How're you doing?"

            Mark smiles, a little shy.  "I'm alright.  You know, same old I guess."  He glances down at his camera.  "I'm gonna film you guys tonight."

            Dylan smiles.  "Like old times, right?"  Mark nods.

            "Let's go," I say, and we start heading for the entrance.  I put my arm around Mark's shoulder.  "C'mon Markie.  You can go backstage at a _real_ rock concert!"  He grins, and we walk through the door.

Mark's POV

            "Roge?"  He nods at me.  "I'm going to sit up there, ok?"  He nods again.  "Sing a song for me, won't you?"  Roger smiles and says something that I can't hear.

The opening band is playing their last song and The Well Hungarians are going to go on in a couple of minutes.  It's been a long time since I've seen Roger play – I can't wait.

I flip on my camera.  "First shot, Irving Plaza.  The Used are finishing up their set, and Roger's about to come onstage."  I point the camera at myself.  "Here I am, sitting and waiting for Roger to come on, just like old times.  Everything seems to be pathetically normal once again."  I pan across the club.  "Hundreds of screaming girls waiting for sexy Roger to come on."  The lights dim and the screams are getting louder.  "Looks like their wait is over – there's the band."  Well, this won't need any more commentary from me.  I can just sit back and film.

Roger comes on stage, and he's absolutely glowing.  "Hey New York!" he screams into the mike.  "We're gonna start with a couple of new songs, and then we'll see where it goes from there.  We don't like making set lists so… it'll be a little more spontaneous I guess."  The applause is insane.  Roger looks back at his band, Darius counts off the beat: "1, 2, 3, 4" and they go into a guitar-driven song that I've never heard.

The time goes by quickly.  They do a bunch of harder rock songs to begin with, some of them from many years ago.  I know a lot of them, and I sing along, recording all the while.  Eventually, the band goes off stage and Roger brings out a stool and an acoustic guitar.  I used to love his acoustic sets – whenever he fought with his band, he would go to the Oneida Bar and perform there by himself with his beat up guitar.  It always got his mind off of things.

"Alright," he says into the mike.  "Time for my acoustic set."  He starts of with Greenbay, and then goes into Your Eyes.  He looks amazing singing that song – he pours his whole soul into it.  He sings a few old songs that he used to sing back in the day…songs written for April.  By now it's 11 o'clock – almost time for his set to be over.

"Alright…time for one more song, I think," he says.  "This next song, I started a long time ago, but I just finished today.  I'm not sure about all the lyrics yet, I don't think they're done."  He glances up in my general direction, and I zoom in on his face.  "Mark.  This one's for you.  I love you and I'm sorry."  I gasp, and blush.  The song starts.

"Lost my train of thought around Chicago.  Found a little solace where you lay.  At least I had your memory to soothe me – it kept me going till the end of May.  Lost my patience well before West Fourth Street, then I found a copper coin, it said "Seize the day." And I let the angry audience surround me, hiding as I screamed and sang and played.  Now even in this silence there's a thunder, a shred of comfort standing at my door.  And at least I've got the sense to reconstruct you and leave me twice as lucid as before.

"Because everything I've ever done, I've done because I love you – silly you should ask.  I'm afraid that I've spent the better part of last year scared that I might need you.  Now I'm back and I feel again.  Everything I've ever done, I've done because I love you...  Sideways.  
"And you left your mark – you left your face in the corner of my mind.  You left your mark and you left yourself.  
"And at least I've got the sense to sense what's coming and realize that good things never come to those who wait too long.

"Because everything I've ever done, I've done because I love you – silly you should ask.  I'm afraid that I've spent the better part of last year scared that I might need you.  Now I'm back and I feel again.  Everything I've ever done, I've done because I love you...  Sideways."

The cheering is deafening as Roger gets off the stage.

I'm speechless.  He sang Mimi's song for me.  It's a beautiful song.  I point the camera at myself, and begin narrating again.  "That was Roger.  Singing the songs that I haven't heard in years.  Some were for Mimi, some were for April, and one was for me…?  What does this mean?  I guess I'll go downstairs and find out."

Roger's POV

            As I was getting off the stage, all I could think about was whether Mark liked his song.  I can see him weaving through the crowd now, trying to get over to me.

            "Hey."  I'm trying to be casual – I don't wanna seem too eager because he may have hated the song.  Or, been confused by it.  The lyrics were very ambiguous, especially because he doesn't know how I feel about him.

            "I loved your song," he says.  "It was beautiful."

            "Really?"

Mark smiles.  "Of course, really."  I'm so relieved – he loved it.  I suddenly want to leave the smoky club and go sit with Mark in the loft, really talk to him.  I search the room for the guys, and quickly spot Jared in the corner, drinking a beer and taking the scene in.  I walk over to him, and motion for Mark to follow me.

"Hey, Mark…" he slurs.  "How've you been?"  He's stoned; probably everyone in this room is except for me.  And Mark, of course.

"Good," Mark replies, as Jared pulls him into a hug.  "You guys were awesome tonight."

"M'yea… Fuckin' awesome man."  A girl holding a joint walks by and Jared grabs it from her hand.  He takes a pull.

"Jared.  Mark and I are gonna get out of here alright?"  Mark shoots me a questioning look and I just smile at him.  Jared looks at me blankly, trying to figure out what it is that I am saying.  "Do you think you can tell the guys that I'm sorry and I'll see them later?"  He nods, and I know that he's already forgotten what I've said.

"Let's go," I say to Mark, and we're out of there.


	5. now lean in farther now

Author's note:  Well, here I am writing Chapter 5.  There's kissing in this one, yay!  It seems as if you all are enjoying my little story, and I'm glad.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but rather, Jonathan's.  Titles are Matt's!  Lyrics?  Also Matt's!  (I kinda butchered and changed them a tiny bit, but he still wrote 'em.)  Hurrah for Matt!

Mark's POV

            Roger grabs my arm and pulls me out of the hot club and into the night.  The cold air wakes me up – I was starting to get drowsy.  I'm not really sure why we left though.  I thought Roger would want to catch up with old friends – there were a million people backstage just waiting to talk to him and he brushed them all off and left.  With me.

            I glance over at him.  He's half-walking, half-running down the block, a little ahead of me, a big grin on his face.  I don't know what could've gotten into him – 2 years ago he never would've dreamed of leaving an after-party to go sit at home with me.  First he sang that song for me, and now this.  Tonight just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

            "Mark!" Roger calls back to me.  "Hurry up, I wanna get home!"  He looks so excited.

            "What's the rush Roge?  If you keep going at this pace, I'll be too tired to do anything but sleep by the time we get there."  I sound a lot more bitter than I had intended too, but he slows down all the same.

            "I just wanna talk to you silly," he grins.  "Like old times."

            "We've certainly used that phrase enough today."

He pushes me into the side of a building.  "When did you become Mr. Negative?"  I smile and shrug, and we walk together in silence.  We finally get to our building (am I thinking of it as 'our' building again?) and Roger opens the door.  "Race you up the stairs," he calls out, and tears up 5 flights with ease.  5 minutes later I reach the top as well, a little out of breath, and he laughs, holding the door open for me.

We walk inside, and quickly fall back into old habits.  He sits on the couch and starts picking out a song on his guitar (I recognize it as the song he played for me tonight, and this makes me blush) and I put my camera on the tripod to get it all on film.  He looks great playing – even if I never see him again, this will be enough of a happy memory to last me forever.  I walk into the kitchen and make some tea.

"Do you still like it with milk and honey?" I ask him.  He nods in reply.  Did I even have to ask?  When I'm done making the tea, I walk over to the couch and sit down next to him.  He drinks down the hot liquid quickly and then keeps playing for a minute.  Soon after, he puts his guitar down and looks at me thoughtfully.

"Mark?"  He looks a little scared, like he's about to say something revealing.  "Have you ever…done anything…you know, sexual, with a guy?"

I laugh at him.  "You always knew that I swing both ways Roge."  He looks at me pleadingly – apparently, this is not enough of an answer for him.  "Yea.  I've done sexual things with guys."  I glance over at him – this answer seems to be enough for him.  "Why are you asking?  I mean, are you getting interested in guys?  Need me to teach you the basics?"  I laugh, but he's blushing.  Roger never blushes.  "Hey, Roge…what's wrong?"

He doesn't respond for a long time.  Finally, he picks up his guitar and plays my song again, singing along with the music this time.  I'm not sure what to say to him – he never gets like this around me – so I just sit back and listen.  The song really is beautiful, and completely unlike anything Roger's ever written.  The lyrics are a lot more honest than his lyrics usually are.  His other songs are more along the lines of 'Boy meets and gets Girl' scenarios.  But this song – well I can tell it's coming from his heart.

When he finishes playing, he puts his guitar down, and looks up at my face expectantly.  I'm not sure what he wants me to say.  "That was beautiful Roge.  It's my favorite.  Out of the songs you've written."  He smiles at me and puts his arm around me.

"Thanks Mark."  He gives me a serious look.  "Not just for liking the song.  I'm glad you like it though.  But I'm talking about everything.  Thanks for everything you've done for me."

"Aw, shucks Roger.  It was nothing."  I'm feigning modesty, trying to brush the compliment off as nothing, when it really means so much.  I can't put more into it than what is there.  Roger doesn't want to be my boyfriend.  He doesn't love me like that.

But then, why did he ask me if I'd ever been with a boy?

Roger's POV

            I'm sitting in my old apartment, on the couch I dragged up five flights of stairs, staring at my best friend and trying to figure out the best way to kiss him.  In all my fantasies about him, I'd say something like, "So Mark, how's the weather?" and he'd lean in and start making out with me rather than the other way around.  Looks like it's not working out that way though.  I've been trying my best to flirt with him all night – I even asked him if he's ever fucked a guy before for Christ's sake.  I figured that would definitely get him naked, on top of me, moaning, "Roger, that's the spot."  
            Instead, he's sitting looking up at me with concern in his eyes.  He probably thinks I'm being weird.  And you know what, I am being weird.  Well fuck weird.  I'm gonna keep being this way.

            "Mark."  He smiles at me.  "I'm serious.  Thank you.  I really mean it.  And I mean the lyrics of the song too – they pertain to you.  I love you Mark."

            "What?"

            "I…I love you."

            "Aw, Roge, you know I love you too."

            "No Mark, I don't love you like _that_, I love you like _this._"  I lean over and kiss him on the lips, gently, slowly.  His body stiffens momentarily, but then he seems to get into it for a few seconds.  I put my hand on his cheek and start kissing him more forcefully, which makes him pull away.

            "Roger?  Do you know what the fuck you're doing?"  Mark looks absolutely terrified.  "You're not into guys!"

            "Oh, Mark, I know.  But I'm into you.  Not because you're a guy Mark, but because you're you."  Mark's face is softening up a bit, and the corners of his mouth are curving into a smile.  "The stuff I'm feeling for you Mark…it's weird.  It's a little sideways.  But I'm still feeling it.  I can't run away from what I'm feeling.  And I don't want to Mark, I don't want to."

            "I…" Mark's voice trails off.

He looks at me for a minute, and then leans in and kisses me, really soft.  I put my hands on his face and kiss him deeper – he starts running his hands through my hair.  I begin massaging his lips with my tongue, wanting entrance into his mouth.  He quickly grants it to me, and I explore his mouth with my tongue, running it over his teeth and the roof of his mouth.  As the kiss deepens, we lie down on the couch, him on top of me.  We make out for a while like this, his hands on my chest, mine massaging the small of his back.

Finally, he breaks away from me and smiles.  "So.  What the fuck are we doing?"

I laugh.  "We're kissing Markie.  Me and you."  I kiss him lightly on the lips.

"Yea.  I guess we are."  He pauses and looks at me shyly.  "Do you think you could play for me for a little while?  I haven't gotten to hear you play in so long.  I've missed it."  He gets up off of me (why did he do that?  I felt so comfortable with his weight on me…) and I pick my guitar up off the floor.

"What do you wanna hear?"

"Play me something new.  Something no one has ever heard."

"Alright.  This song, it's not done yet.  I don't know what the chorus is going to be yet either… I just know some of the verses."  I begin playing the song, playing around with the chords at first, trying to see what sounds best.  Then I start to sing, a little shy at first – I haven't even tried this song out on the guys from the band yet.

"Hold me closer now, make believe I'm someone else.  I can't hear but I can listen to your lies.  Show me beauty now, make believe you look like you.  I can't see but I can read between the lines.  Yea, hit me harder now, make believe my face is numb.  I can't feel but I can sense you in the air.  Now lean in farther now, make believe you're unafraid.  I can't speak but I can whisper in your ear…

"Wishing I was there, wishing I could hold the ground that spins around and leaves me unaware.  Just say you love me now, 'cos I cannot afford to wait… To deny your heart is to deny me too, and I can start a new religion with the things I don't do.  It's not like you're scared anyhow…"

I play the last couple of chords from the song, and look over at Mark.  I have a bad habit of singing with my eyes closed – I wish I could've kept them open so I could gauge his reaction to this latest piece of writing.  However, it seems I have nothing to worry about – he is beaming up at me from behind his glasses.

            "Roger…that was so beautiful."  I smile at him, happy he liked it.  "When did your lyrics get so personal?"

            "When I fell in love with you."  He kisses me, and I put my guitar down and get lost in the moment.  The kiss goes on almost forever, but eventually we have to break apart.  I have to get back to my hotel.  I start to get up, telling Mark that I have to go.

            "No Roge…stay here tonight.  Come sleep with me," he pleads.  I can't say no to him, and we head back to his room.  He hands me a pair of pajama pants and I put them on.  I crawl into the bed beside him and put my arms around his waist, breathing in his smell – so uniquely Mark.

            "I love you Roger," he whispers.

            "Me too."  I can honestly say that I've never been happier in my life.


	6. all the fear and doubt now left behind

Author's note:  Yay, I'm writing more.  Eh, I don't have much else to say, except that I'm seeing The Strokes (and some other rockin' bands) in like…4 hours (!) at Jones Beach and I'm super stoked!  Anyone seen them in concert?  I hear they're awesome.

Disclaimer: Mark and Roger are Jonathan's.  The lyrics to Rendezvous are Matt Caplan's (although I _did_ fuck with them a little).  The chapter title is also from a Matt song.  3 cheers for Matt!  ::hurrah, hurrah, hurrah::

Roger's POV

            I wake up and feel really disoriented.  I open my eyes and look around, not sure where I am, and I see Mark, sleeping peacefully with a smile on his face.  Memories from last night come back to me – the concert, the song, the kiss.  The kiss.  Shit, Mark and I kissed.

            I've been waiting for so long for that to happen, and honestly, I did not think that it ever would.  Yeah, Mark is bi.  And yea, I'm in love with him.  But I left.  I left for a long time, and I didn't think that Mark would ever find it in his heart to forgive me.  I'm still surprised that he did – I was such a selfish asshole, running away from what I was feeling, leaving him to cope with everything by himself.  Mimi was his friend too.  But of course, I didn't take that into consideration.  I never used to think about the things I did back then; I just did them.

            But, I guess leaving could have been excusable if I had kept in touch.  Mark knows I'm not good at staying around and coping with things – he's seen me run away before, to Santa Fe.  I came back pretty quickly then, and I called.  I called every night, telling Mark how much I missed New York and asking about Mimi.  This time though, there were no phone calls.  I called everyone else – Maureen, Collins, the guys in the band.  I always asked about Mark and they always told me to call him.  I tried calling him – I really did!  About a million times.  But whenever I got the answering machine (Mark always screens his calls) and heard Mark's voice on it, alone, saying, "I'm not here.  Leave me a message if you care." I chickened out.  Because, no matter how much I tried to deny it, it was my fault that he was all alone.  The person I loved more than anything else was alone.

            Granted, that would've been easy to fix.  I could've come home, told Mark how much I love him, and let bygones be bygones.  And I almost did.  But then, the guys all came to me and said we needed to make music.  They said they couldn't do it without me.  I didn't know how to say no; besides, being in a band was all I'd ever wanted.  So I called Mark's machine one last time, and found the recording had been changed.  It wasn't just a dejected Mark talking now.  Instead, there was another male voice with Mark, and both of them were giggling into the phone, telling me to leave Alex and Markie a message at the tone and to have a lovely day.  'He doesn't need me anymore,' I thought then, and I didn't look back.

            Sure, he was always in the corner of my mind.  Every time some girl hit on me, I'd ignore her advances, thinking only of Mark.  My Mark.  The Mark who filmed everything, the Mark who hummed "Fame" while he made tea, the Mark who thought I didn't notice when he came into my room late at night and tucked me into bed while I was going through withdrawal and didn't have the strength to tuck myself in.

            When I came back to New York, I knew it was inevitable that I see Mark.  But, I thought it'd just be a chance meeting on the street, me by myself, him with his girlfriend (or boyfriend).  We'd stop, and he'd ask why I left, and I wouldn't have the answers.  So he'd say, "fuck you" very quietly and walk away, never looking back again.  And I'd think about this meeting for the rest of my life, wondering about what could've happened.

            Instead, this happened.  It's better than anything I could've imagined.

            I lean over to the bedside table and try to find my watch.  I definitely put it there last night.  I look around for a while and finally find it on the floor under my t-shirt.  It's only 7:15… I don't think I've ever woken up this early in my life.  I feel the man next to me stir – I know it won't be long before Mark wakes up too.

            I can hear chords beginning to form in my head already.  I get up and head for the living room, my fingers itching to get hold of my guitar.  I'm gonna write a song.

Mark's POV

            I wake up and feel the other side of the bed – it's cold and empty.  I panic.  Roger left in the middle of the night.  He realized the kissing was a mistake, that he was too macho-rockstar to be into me.  Rockstars don't kiss boys.  "Well, I should've known," I mutter.  Then, I hear music floating in from the living room.  Of course Roger didn't leave.  He's just writing.

            I look over at the clock hanging on the wall – 8:45.  Since when does Roger get up before 11?  And, since when do Roger and I sleep in the same bed?  Since when do we kiss?  Wow.  Roger and I kissed.

            I get out of bed and walk into the living room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb my musician.  I get my camera out and begin filming.  He looks so passionate, singing with his eyes closed like that.  I could watch him play for hours.  The song is one I've never heard before.  It's beautiful.  The lyrics are so honest.  I can't believe how much honest writing Roger's been doing.  His songs … they never had depth before.  Now it seems like they do.

            The song ends and the noise of my camera fills the room.  He turns around, startled.

            "Mark…How long have you been here?"

            "Long enough to hear the song.  You write so well Roge."  I walk over to him and he grabs my hand and kisses me.  I still can't believe me and Roger are actually kissing.  I break away from him and smile.

            "That was nice, Roge."  He chuckles, and leans in for another one, but I turn my head.  "I'm gonna make some breakfast for us.  You keep playing, ok?"  He starts glaring at me so I kiss the back of his neck, and he smiles.

            "Alright Mark…I'll play."  He starts picking out the opening chords to the song he was just playing, and I sit across from him and just listen to the lyrics.

"I think God made me wise…I think he made me crazy.  And that's why I connect the dots on every page.  Who knows why I see what I see in the sky?

"And I was gone and I was haunted by images.  Now your arms are wrapped around me like two human bandages.  They're healing my spirit, are they sending me messages?  I am not lost, you are not wrong, I am not that which I most fear.  Tell your demons to disperse, they are not welcome here… And if I miss you, and if we falter, we will rendezvous under the water.

"I think God made you wise, I think he made you crazy…And that's why now you are here with me…Who knows why you see what you see in my eyes?

"And I was gone, you left me with memories.  They were fragile and fading, like gray ghostly entities.  And I swear I came back cos you were sending me energy…You are not lost, I am not wrong, you are not that which you most fear.  I'm telling my demons to disperse, they are not welcome here.  And if I miss you, and if we falter, we will rendezvous under the water.

"You gotta hold your breath…you gotta hold my hand.  Maybe we're not that wise, maybe we're not that crazy…"

He stops playing and realizes that I've been listening to him this whole time.

            "Hey, that's not fair.  You were supposed to be making me breakfast!"  He runs over to me, and before I know what the hell is going on, he pins me to the ground, and straddles me, laughing.  "Dude…you always sucked at wrestling."

We both laugh for a while, and then I lean up and kiss him.  The kiss deepens quickly, and he lies down on top of me.  We keep making out for a long time, breakfast completely forgotten.  Pretty soon, Roger's taking off my shirt and sucking on my nipples.  As good as this feels, I know we can't move this fast.  For one thing, Roger's got AIDS.  For another, he's my best friend.

"Roger."  He stops what he's doing and grins up at me.  "I'm gonna make breakfast.  We should eat.  And you need to take your meds."  He stops smiling and gets off of me.  I look over at him, but he won't meet my eyes.  "Roge?"  No response.  I go into the kitchen and make us each a bowl of cereal and some orange juice.  "Roger."

"What?" he snaps, glaring at me from the couch.

I walk over and put my arms around his waist, kissing his hair and ears.  "Calm down, silly."  He kisses me on the mouth, and I know things are ok again.  "Breakfast is ready."


	7. so complicated this world of yours

**Author's Note:** Well it's been a while, but I'm finally updating I Can Watch You Dance.  It's a good story and it's not done yet, so… yea I'm gonna finish it.  Please please please review!

**Disclaimer:** Mark and Roger still don't belong to me.  Neither does Collins.  The chapter title is from Matt's song Unaware.  And the "each new road leads straight to home" line is also Matt's.

Mark's POV

            _Ring…Ring…Ring…_ "Hey, it's Mark.  I'm not here.  Leave a message."  I wake up and hear my voice on the answering machine, but am too lazy to get up and answer the phone.  I roll over and see Roger lying beside me and smile.

            "Hey Mark."  It's Collins!  He's finally back from his Buddhist retreat.  I roll out of bed and walk over to the phone.  "I dunno if you're screening or just not home, but I'm back and I wanted to come by and tell you all about my trip and stuff.  So, if you can, give me a—"

            "Hey Collins!"

            "Mark?"

            "Yea.  Who else would be answering the phone at my house?"

            "Andrew?"

            "Andrew…?"

            "You know, your boyfriend."

            "Oh."  Wow, Collins has been gone for a long time.  Andrew and I broke up like 2 months ago…he couldn't deal with my 'commitment issues'.  "Andrew and I broke up."

            "Oh.  Yea, I was wondering why you were the only one talking on your machine."  He paused, unsure of what to say.  "Hey, I'm sorry Mark.  You guys were good together."

            "No worries."  I smile, thinking about the man asleep in my bed.  "Hey, where are you?"

            "At home.  I flew into JFK at 3:30 this morning."

            "Well, do you want some breakfast?  I don't have much, just eggs and maybe some cereal.  But I think you'll be pleasantly surprised when you get here."

            "Why?"

            "You'll see.  Just come over."

            "Ok," Collins agrees, and hangs up.  I walk around the living room, searching for my camera.  Normally, I leave it on my tripod, but last night I got caught up in Roger and was careless.  I finally find it in a pile of clothes by the bathroom door.  I pick it, set it on its tripod, and turn it on.

            "November 27th, 11:17 AM, Eastern Time.  Collins is coming over – he's back from Tibet – and Roger is asleep in my bed.  I better go wake him up; he'll want to shower before Collins gets her.  The last few days have gone by in a blur.  I'm not sure if I can recall it all, but the fact is this: Roger and I kissed."  I smile to myself and take my camera off the tripod and into my room to film Roger.  "He looks so peaceful when he sleeps," I whisper to my camera.  "He always has a smile on his face when he dreams.  It's a shame I have to wake him."

I turn off my camera and sit on the edge of the bed, gently shaking my musician.  "Roge…wake up."  He groans and rolls over.  "C'mon Roge, get up.  Collins is coming over."  He buries his deep beneath the covers.  Gently, I take them off and kiss his eyelids.

He opens his eyes slowly and smiles.  "Mmm…" He kisses my nose.  "What were you saying babe?"

"Collins is coming over.  Go hop in the shower."

He grins mischievously and kisses me hard on the mouth.  "Why don't you get in with me?"  He gets up and I slap his ass, but shake my head 'no'.  Roger has AIDS.  I can't risk getting sick.  I can't be careless.  I sigh.  I can hear Roger singing in the bathroom as I walk into the kitchen.  I scramble 8 eggs with some Kraft Singles and make three bowls of Corn Flakes, sprinkling sugar on mine and Roger's.  I was my face at the kitchen sink and then go change into some (relatively) clean clothes.  Collins will be here soon and I don't want to be too much of a mess.

After I clean myself and the living room up a little bit, I sit down on the couch and wait for Collins to come.  What's gonna happen when Roge and I do decide to have sex?  We're gonna have to be safe about it.  Use protection.  I can't afford to get sick because we're too careless to get a condom.  But it'll probably be a while before we're ready anyway.  I mean, it's not everyday you're thinking about fucking your best friend.  And there are so many—

I was startled out of my reverie when Roger put his arms around my shoulders and kissed my ear.  "Watchya thinking about?"

I didn't meet his gaze.  I didn't know whether I wanted to talk to Roger about the possibility of us having sex.  I certainly didn't want to do it now.  But then again… 'When else are you gonna do it Mark?'  Hesitating, I looked into Roger's eyes, and saw love there.  Pure love, completely uninhibited.

"Roge…?"

"What's wrong Mark?"

"I…" I faltered.  How do I go about starting this conversation?  "Well, I was thinking, about, you know, us.  And…I don't want to be presumptuous, so I'm going to refrain from calling us a 'couple'."  Roger smiled at this, chuckled a little even.  "But, we definitely have a physical relationship.  And it's bound to…ah, develop.  You know?"  I stare at him anxiously, trying to see if he understands what I'm trying to get at.

He starts laughing, visibly relieved.  "Mark.  Is this a sex talk?"

Roger's POV

            I get out of the shower and into the living room to find Mark.  I see him sitting on the couch, absorbed in his thoughts, and wrap my arms around his shoulders.  "What're you thinking about?"

            He doesn't meet my gaze and it looks as though something is troubling him.  I start rubbing his shoulders and feel all the knots there.  He's really tense, and probably very worried about something.

            "Roge…?" he says softly, ending the word in a question mark.

            "What's wrong Mark?"  I hate seeing Mark hurt.  I wonder what could be wrong.

            "I…" It seems he's not sure exactly where to begin.  He takes a deep breath and starts talking very fast.  "Well, I was thinking, about, you know, us.  And…I don't want to be presumptuous, so I'm going to refrain from calling us a 'couple'.  But, we definitely have a physical relationship.  And it's bound to…ah, develop.  You know?"  He's done and he looks at me, his eyes full of concern.  I chuckle, trying to curb my laughter but I can't help it, and I start giggling.

            "Mark.  Is this a sex talk?"

            He blushes and nods sheepishly.  "Yea.  I guess so."  I keep laughing, unable to control myself.  Mark starts getting pissed off, which I find all the more humorous.  "Hey… It's not that funny."  He tries to sound angry, but a smile is playing at the corners of his lips.  Eventually he starts laughing too, and we both sit there, holding hands and giggling.  I feel like I'm in junior high again.

            Once we both calm down, Mark tries again.  "Roge, I was serious.  We do need to talk about it."

            "Ok.  What do you have to say?"

            "Well.  I hate to be blunt, but you have AIDS.  I don't."

            Duh Mark.  Well at least he's not skirting the issue like he was a minute ago.  "I know.  But we can be safe.  Really Mark.  I would never put you in danger because I'm horny."  He's starting to smile, and so am I.  "Don't worry about it.  I promise when it comes up we'll be safe."

            That answer seems to satisfy him and he leans over and kisses me on the mouth, softly.  I deepen the kiss and we end up making out on the couch for a few minutes.  The phone rings and Mark reluctantly gets up off of me.

            "It's probably Collins asking for the key," he explains.  I'd forgotten that Collins was coming and I fix my shirt, although I'm not sure why.  Collins has seen me look a lot worse than I do now.  But I haven't seen him in months, and I want to make a good impression.

            I stay on the couch when Mark gets up to open the door.  Collins doesn't see me at first, he's too wrapped up in hugging Mark and telling him about his trip.  I get up and stand awkwardly next to the two of them, allowing them to finish their moment.  When Collins finally lets go of Mark, he sees me, and his jaw nearly hits the ground.

            "Roger?"  His voice is full of wonder.  I nod.  "What are you doing here?"  He comes over to me and wraps up in a big Collins hug and I grin.

            "The band's in the city.  We're working on our second album."

            "Yea?  I've heard your stuff.  It's awesome."

            I smile.  "Thanks Collins."

The three of us quietly look at each other.  We've shared so much, our little group of friends.  I can't believe I'm back here with them again.  All we need now is Maureen and Benny, and we can pretend that it's six years ago and we just moved into the loft.  But it's not six years ago, and I realize that.  Choices have been made, and we can't take them back anymore.  But…maybe it's better that way.  Because we're all together again now.  It's certainly true that each new road leads straight to home.


End file.
